


horizons

by shirasu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23801662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirasu/pseuds/shirasu
Summary: “I wanted to win with you,” Shinsuke murmurs, and Atsumu makes a small noise. “I wanted to take you to Nationals, and I wanted to stand on center court with you, and I wanted to win with you. You, Osamu, Aran. Everyone. Is that selfish?”“We’ll win next time,” Atsumu says. His eyes are hard. “I promise you we’ll win. This Spring High, we’ll become the champions and you’ll get to tell your kids and your grandkids you played with the best team Inarizaki’s ever had.”
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 11
Kudos: 101





	horizons

**Author's Note:**

> or, three times kita steps away from atsumu, and one time he steps forward

It’s in the locker room after the Itachiyama game that Atsumu snaps.

“I could’ve—” He starts, his knuckles going white around the towel clenched in his hands, before he makes a quick motion, like he’s about to throw it at the wall. No one stops him. No one can blame him. Instead, he hangs his head, the towel dropping onto the ground and the words dying in his throat.

Shinsuke watches him just as he watches the others.

It wasn’t a close match, not by any means. They’d managed to pry a set from Itachiyama, but only after so many rallies that Shinsuke thought his head might spin from watching the ball. Then there’d been the final set, and he could tell that Atsumu was getting tired. It must’ve been a combination of so many things— the Mujinazaka game yesterday, the Shiratorizawa game the day before— that Atsumu’s tosses were starting to slip, that Atsumu wasn’t setting as high or as perfectly anymore.

Shinsuke doesn’t feel bad about making the call to take Atsumu out of the match, not one bit.

He just doesn’t know if he’ll let himself forget the way Atsumu’s face looked that moment when Shinsuke passed him to take center court.

Now, Shinsuke burns this image into the forefront of his memory.

Everyone else has moved on, their tears dried on their cheeks, but Shinsuke takes a single step towards Atsumu.

“Atsumu,” Shinsuke says, quiet, and he reaches for Atsumu’s shoulder. To comfort, to hold, to reassure. To tell him it’s not his fault.

He stops. Atsumu doesn’t believe in empty words, and neither does he.

“Atsumu, the awards ceremony is in thirty minutes,” he says instead. He waits for Atsumu to nod in response before he leaves to speak to the reporters closing in on their coach, shutting the door behind him.

Weeks later, Atsumu is the one who finds him in the club room.

Shinsuke doesn’t make it a habit of doing this long after they’ve reviewed plays from previous matches, but today, he’s perched in front of a laptop, the final set of the Itachiyama game playing out in front of his eyes again.

“Senpai. What are you doing?”

Shinsuke doesn’t need to turn around to see the expression on Atsumu’s face. Eyebrows knit together, lips downturned, eyes squinted. He can imagine nothing else. On screen, Atsumu tosses the ball too high, and Suna barely manages to hit it, barely manages to send the ball over the net and into the waiting arms of their libero.

He debates his options. There’s no point in lying, since Atsumu can clearly see himself flub toss after toss.

“Trying to figure out when I should’ve noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

Shinsuke turns. Atsumu’s expression is exactly as he’d pictured it in his mind. “That I was overworking you. I should’ve seen it earlier. I’m sorry.”

Atsumu sighs, heavy, before he pulls out a chair with a squeak and sits down, crossing his arms. “You weren’t overworking me or anything. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m the captain, I should’ve made the call—”

“Yeah, and I was the one who kept going. We had a timeout left, we could’ve called for one right then, subbed me out right at the beginning.” Atsumu lets out another sigh. “Don’t kick yourself too hard over it, senpai.”

“I wanted to win with you,” Shinsuke murmurs, and Atsumu makes a small noise. “I wanted to take you to Nationals, and I wanted to stand on center court with you, and I wanted to win with you. You, Osamu, Aran. Everyone. Is that selfish?”

“We’ll win next time,” Atsumu says. His eyes are hard. “I promise you we’ll win. This Spring High, we’ll become the champions and you’ll get to tell your kids and your grandkids you played with the best team Inarizaki’s ever had.”

Shinsuke smiles. Atsumu grins back, a shadow of the usual shit-eating smirk he’s always throwing around at opponents and teammates alike, and Shinsuke wants, suddenly, to hold him again. It’s easy to forget how young he is— how young they all are— but in this moment, Atsumu looks like just another kid.

“Stop watching that shit, senpai,” Atsumu declares, reaching past Shinsuke to slap the laptop closed. “We’re getting food.”

Atsumu drags Shinsuke out of the club room and into the light, his hand burning around Shinsuke’s wrist.

And if Atsumu notices that Shinsuke twists out of his grasp, he doesn’t say anything.

The end of the year approaches faster than Shinsuke wants to think about. If there’s anything at all he can say about the way they finished at Spring High, it’s that he got to spend more time with the team before graduation. Shinsuke sits for the national exam on a blustery January day, and there’s the insistent thought in the back of his mind that Atsumu and Osamu must be burning down the gym. Or something.

The next morning, Shinsuke comes back to find that no one, thankfully, has burned down the gym. All of the balls are still there, and the net hasn’t been torn into pieces.

Shinsuke turns over the captaincy to Atsumu, who cries big fat tears into his hands at the third years’ graduation as Osamu laughs and Suna films it all.

“Your fans are gonna _love_ this,” Suna says, cackling, but Atsumu doesn’t seem to care much at all.

“Good luck next year,” Shinsuke tells Atsumu, and he means it. There’ll be Osamu and Suna and Ginjima and all the new first years to wrangle, but he’s certain they can make great things happen. “I’ll come watch your games, so make sure you don’t overwork yourself. But don’t slack off too much, you hear?”

“Yes,” Atsumu manages between sniffles. “How about failing all your classes so you don’t graduate? You can stay on the team another year.”

“Sorry,” Shinsuke says, patting Atsumu on the head. “It’s a little too late for that now.”

“You shouldn’t come to visit us too much, senpai,” Osamu drawls. “He’s gonna just rely on you to keep everyone in line, you know? You should do well in law school so you can defend this idiot here when he gets in trouble.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that about me!”

“Well, am I wrong?”

Shinsuke wanders off to take some photos with the other third years, and once he’s returned, Atsumu is standing on his own, hands shoved into his pockets.

“You’re still here?”

“I’ll make you proud,” Atsumu says, and his eyes are so bright and so earnest. “You can count on it.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Shinsuke replies, and before he knows it, his feet carry him to where Atsumu is, and he leans up and winds his arms around Atsumu’s shoulders.

He feels Atsumu’s hands close on the small of his back, and there’s a warmth that spreads inside him, blooming and blossoming through every part of his body.

He’s the first to pull away, and he resolutely doesn’t look Atsumu in the eyes when he pats Atsumu’s hand.

“Make me proud.”

He does.

In the Interhigh, Inarizaki comes out on top as champions, trouncing all of the competition in their way.

Atsumu, wearing the number one on his back, brandishes the trophy in the air, and he somehow, impossibly, manages to find Shinsuke in the crowd. He lifts the trophy higher, like he’s saying _see? I told you I’d make me proud_ , and Shinsuke nods.

He doesn’t look away this time.

Shinsuke doesn’t like to skip class. It goes against everything he’s ever been taught to do, and he’s not going to miss the final days of class before he needs to take time off to study for his exams. But he’s anxious the entire day, excitement thrumming through his blood the way it hasn’t in a long, long time— since he quit volleyball in high school, if he’s being honest with himself.

As soon as his ethics class ends, he’s stashing his books in his bag and leaping down the stairs. From his university, it’s a ten minute walk and then a fifteen minute subway ride to the stadium, and he vibrates with nervous energy the entire way.

The stadium is larger than he could ever have imagined, and when Shinsuke makes it inside, it’s clear that the game has already ended. The players have scattered, and there’s nothing left to see but an empty court.

“Kita-senpai? Oh, Kita-senpai! It’s really you!”

Shinsuke turns, and _oh_ , it’s Ginjima, waving at him with a giant lightstick in his hand. Akagi and Ren are there, too, and if he strains his ears, he can make out the faint voices of both Osamu and Suna in the background somewhere.

“You’re all here. I’m sorry I was late.”

“Don’t worry,” Michinari says, slapping Shinsuke on the back. “Hey, check out this crazy poster of Atsumu they’ve got up here. Isn’t that insane?”

Shinsuke looks up, drowning out the background noise of Michinari sighing _he’s grown so much, our little hellion._

There, in front of him, is the newest member of the MSBY Black Jackals. He looks confident in that uniform, its material stretching over his broad shoulders. Their very own Miya Atsumu, and here he is, on a national stage, his serves and tosses being broadcasted to millions. It’s almost enough to make him feel a little bit jealous.

“I wanted to be here for his debut match,” Shinsuke mutters, more to himself than anything. “I can’t believe it ended so quickly.”

“You know how he is. He got so into it that they ended up winning in straight sets,” Aran explains. “Well, if you want to see him, he’s probably outside? A lot of reporters came to see him.”

Shinsuke nods, then dashes off to where he’d seen a huge mob of people by the entrance. In hindsight, he should’ve figured that was where Atsumu was. The screaming should’ve given it away.

He waits his turn, patiently standing by the side as reporter after reporter asks him question after question. _How do you feel after your first game with the Black Jackals? Was it difficult playing against the Red Falcons, especially since their outside hitter Ojiro was a teammate in high school? Are you single?_

He’s almost able to predict exactly when Atsumu gets tired of it all and shoves his way past the cameras, presumably to meet up with his teammates, and he steps in front of Atsumu’s path.

Atsumu, to his credit, doesn’t even blink.

“Kita-senpai,” he says, and his voice is a little hoarse. From all the on-court yelling and all the off-court interviews, probably. “I didn’t think you would make it.”

“Of course I’d make it. It’s your debut match, after all.” Shinsuke pauses. “Say, have you eaten yet?”

Atsumu fidgets.

“What did I say about taking care of yourself? You’re in the big leagues now, Atsumu, honestly. Who’s going to take care of you now that I won’t be around to make sure you don’t overwork yourself?”

“I’ve gotten pretty good at it! The not overworking part, I mean, senpai.”

“I’m not your senpai anymore, Atsumu,” Shinsuke says, gentle. “You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

He can practically hear the gears in Atsumu’s brain turning. “How about just Kita-san, then? Doesn’t feel right calling you anything else.”

“That’s alright with me.” Shinsuke takes in the whole of Atsumu, the jacket snug on his shoulders. “Are you free after this?”

“Why, Kita-san,” Atsumu begins, and he affects an airy tone, “are you asking me out on a date?”

Shinsuke stills. There are so many ways to answer this, but he knows there’s only one way he wants this to go. He’s tired of waiting, of overthinking, of stepping back.

“Well, I just wanted to eat with you, but sure, if that’s what you want. It can be whatever you want it to be.”

Shinsuke walks off without checking to see if Atsumu’s following him, and sure enough, he can hear the sound of footsteps on the pavement behind him.

“Kita-san! Wait! What do you mean?”

Shinsuke stops and turns, and he takes a step forward to close a hand around Atsumu’s wrist. He smiles. “So, Atsumu. What are we going to do today?”

**Author's Note:**

> things i totally made up:  
> \- inarizaki's championship win at interhigh  
> \- inarizaki facing off against shiratorizawa (please let me believe)  
> \- kita lawyering up
> 
> i feel a little regretful i wasn't able to write the 50k of slow burn friends to teammates with UST to friends to lovers that this couple deserves... i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! ^__^


End file.
